


A Stray Cat In the Wild Wild Waste

by Hoofengoofer



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drinking, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Let Catra (She-Ra) Say Fuck, M/M, Original Character(s), Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29622732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoofengoofer/pseuds/Hoofengoofer
Summary: Catra has lost everything. Her friends, her army, her place in the world, and, finally, her illusions. Forced to confront her mistakes, and with no place to call home, Catra flees into the Waste, seeking a fresh start and a chance to, perhaps, do better this time.Adora has won, and victory tastes like ash. She-Ra and Catra both have vanished, and with them goes every purpose, every destiny, Adora has ever had. What does a woman raised for war do in a world finally at peace? Adora doesn't know, but she's determined to find out.
Relationships: Adora & Bow & Glimmer (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow & Glimmer (She-Ra), Catra (She-Ra)/Original Character(s), Kyle/Lonnie/Rogelio (She-Ra), Mermista/Sea Hawk (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 129





	1. A Cat Walks Into A Bar...

Catra tugged her hood down closer as she ducked into the bar. It was amazing how little the place had changed.  _ The Last Chance _ was still a dive full of criminals and scum. The only thing that had changed was that the gateway to Crimson Waste now hosted a third kind of patron: idiots. She could see them everywhere, families with their life’s possessions on their backs filled the center of the room, looking around themselves with a sort of grim, dogged sense of hope that made her want to laugh. In the corners of the room huddled gangs of mismatched youths, dressed in what looked suspiciously like Horde uniforms with the emblems torn off, their hands compulsively checking for weapons they’d thrown away months ago. And at the bar sat the worst kind of fools, men (and a few women) quaffing overpriced drinks and talking about how rich they’d be when they went home, all of them wearing the badge of the Dryl Expeditionary Mining Alliance (DEMA). Idiots, all of them, idiots who had come to the Waste chasing the promise of a fresh start, a place where they could forget the past and start a new, better, life. Idiots like her.

“Are you just gonna stand there all day or are you gonna go inside?” Catra jumped, hand shooting out to smooth down her tail before it could give her away, as a large Reptilian man pushed past her into the bar. Catra opened her mouth, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue - and froze.  _ “It's you. You drive them away, Wildcat,” Scorpia, but no it's not  _ **_really_ ** _ her, says, face full of pity. _ Catra swallowed down the angry barb before it could escape. This was her second chance, her new beginning. That meant she could, should, change, stop making the same old mistakes. Do… better. 

“Sorry,” Catra muttered, so softly she isn’t sure the man hears, and walks over towards the bar. “I’ll have an ale and some bread,” she told the bartender, placing a fistful of coins on the bar between them. It's the last of her currency and she hopes it's enough for the meal. She didn't have time to grab much when she…  _ Burning metal and melted walls, shrieking alarms blending together with terrified screams, the whole building shaking like the world was coming apart around her _ … when she left.

“This is Horde scrip,” the bartender, a tall Satyr with blue fur, said, setting down the glass she’d been polishing.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Catra could feel her claws sliding out of her hand and her pupils dilating. 

“Weeeelll the Horde’s gone, so this isn’t exactly legal tender anywhere” the bartender replied. Catra froze, nearly shaking with suppressed rage. She had hidden from Alliance patrols, braved the Whispering Woods, sneaked and skulked for months to get here! And now this bitch was going to refuse her money? She  _ dared?! _ She should have known better than to try to be  _ nice _ . This was the Crimson Waste, and here strength ruled. Well she’d show them how strong she was, just like she showed them last time! Last time… with… Scorpia…  _ “You’re a bad friend.” _ Catra flinched at the memory, the accusation, the truth, and just like that, her rage vanished, replaced by hunger and regret. 

“It’s all I have,” she muttered, head down. Catra hoped the Satyr wouldn’t make a big deal about that. It wasn’t as though it was hard to connect the dots. A volatile stranger in a hooded cloak and veil, carrying only Horde scrip? Catra had ex-Horde written all over her. But then, so did a third of  _ The Last Chance _ ’s patrons. If the bartender would serve them, why not Catra? ‘ _ They were only following orders, you were the one giving them, Catra’ _ said a voice, one that sounded entirely too much like Adora for Catra’s comfort.

“Well today’s your lucky day! Because the Princess Alliance,” the bartender continued, oblivious to Catra’s moment of crisis, “in their infinite wisdom, have allowed us humble tradesmen to exchange Horde scrip for Bright Moon coin… at a two for one ratio. So take your pick: Do you want the ale or the bread?” Catra stomach growled angrily, but that wasn’t even a choice. Water, any liquid really, was worth its weight in gold in the Waste.

“I’ll take the ale,” she said, stomach empty and fists clenched. Besides, if she didn’t get a drink in her soon she’d end up killing someone. 

After receiving her ale, which looked disturbingly like horse piss, Catra found a small table in the back and sat down to figure out what the hell to do next. She’d headed to the Waste because it was the only place on the planet not crawling with Alliance goons. The only place where she could start over, figure out what she’d done wrong the first time around. Besides, ever since the war ended the Waste had become the destination of choice for those with nowhere else to go. Ex-Horde soldiers and homeless refugees alike were flooding the place, all looking to start a new life and forget the past. When DEMA was created to search the Waste for Thulite deposits it was just the flavor powder on the ration bar. The Crimson Waste was the perfect place for Etheria’s most wanted war criminal to disappear, never to be seen again.

At least, that’d been the plan. Now that she was actually here, Catra was starting to notice a few holes in it. For one thing, she was entirely too recognizable. Catra had never met another feline, much less another one with heterochromia. If anyone got a good look at her face (...or her ears… or her tail) she was as good as dead. Which, funnily enough, was what the Alliance said she was. Dead that is, not good. Catra didn’t know what had possessed Sparkles (and it had to be her, that announcement had her fingerprints all over it) to tell everyone that Catra and Hordak had killed each other, but she wasn’t going to complain. Still, anyone who saw her face would figure out the ruse quickly enough. That meant she had to wear this stupid veil (Catra lifted the garment in question to take a quick sip of her ale. And yes, it also tasted like horse piss) all the time. That brought her to the second problem: money, or the lack thereof. Catra needed a job. A job you could do while covering your face at all times. A job you could do while covering your face at all times when your only marketable skills were a mix of tactical genius and proficiency at violence. It wasn’t that Catra couldn’t think of any professions that fit those criteria. She could think of several. The problem was that this was supposed to be her fresh start, and her inner-Adora (and oh how Catra hated that she’d started calling her conscience that) was adamant that all of the careers in question were a decided step backward. Perhaps she could try Giant Warthog herding? Catra sipped her (awful) ale as she considered. The job involved spending months away from other people and they wore those kerchiefs over their face…

“What do you think you’re doing here, Horde scum?” challenged a tall, heavily muscled Etherian man as he slammed his fist on her table. He wore a kerchief in the style Catra had just been thinking about, one dyed in the rainbow colors of the Bright Moon Rebellion. 

“Yeah, scum, what do you think you’re doing!” one of the man’s flunkies, a short, squat Satyr wearing a kerchief in the same colors, added. The man’s other companion, a Reptilian woman also wore the kerchief that Catra was realizing was some sort of uniform, nodded furiously as she glared at the seated woman. 

Catra looked at them, blinking slowly. She’d gotten complacent, she realized. She’d assumed that because ex-Horde soldiers sat here, she was safe. But there was a crucial difference between Catra and every other former minion in the room: They sat together, huddled protectively in small groups, while she… she was alone. Vulnerable. Weak.

“Well! Answer me you little shit!” The leader of the trio roared, reaching out with one arm to grab Catra’s mug and throw it, and her horse-piss ale, onto the ground. Catra took a deep breath, waiting for a sudden flash of memory, a snatch of Adora’s voice, anything really, to remind her why she shouldn’t claw this asshole's face off. When nothing came, Catra smiled.

“Don’t you remember the second rule of the Crimson waste?” Catra drawled, smirking.

“Wha-” the Etherian began.

“Don’t fucking bother me while I eat!” Catra screamed, suddenly furious, leaping forward to claw this insolent idiot's face off. For Catra, the next several minutes are a blur of violence and wonderful, enjoyable, release. Someone, the Satyr, reaches for a stun baton. Catra breaks his arm. A chair is thrown. Catra ducks and it takes out the Reptilian woman instead. Catra crouches on the bar, a manic smile on her face as she slams the kerchiefed Etherian’s head into the wood over and over and over. A Reptilian (a new one) catches Catra on the jaw with her fist. Catra throws one former Horde cadet into another, as the room seems to spin around her. And on and on it goes.

When the fighting finally stops, Catra’s standing in the middle of the tavern, surrounded by broken furniture and moaning bodies, with a broken chair leg in one hand and an unconscious Reptilian woman in the other. “I have to admit, I’m impressed,” a voice, deep, melodious, and distinctly self satisfied rung out, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone actually  _ win _ a tavern brawl before. Usually these things just keep going until everyone's unconscious or the bouncers throw them all out.” Catra spun around, dropping both leg and lizard as she did so. Catra found herself looking at what had to be the  _ fattest _ sea elf she had ever laid eyes upon. He had pasty green-grey skin and was dressed in a dark purple suit that was entirely unsuitable for the climate, indeed, it was already soaked in copious amounts of sweat. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Catra hissed, one hand curling forward into a claw while the other darted up to make sure her veil was up. This led to the realization that her veil was decidedly not up, because it was gone. It must have come loose during the fighting, and Catra had no idea where it was. She was prevented from giving this realization the anxiety it deserved by the fish man’s introduction. 

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance! I am Mercato, the greatest merchant in all of Etheria! If it exists I can sell it to you… for the right price, of course!” The fish, Mercato, winked during the last part of his introduction, apparently under the (false) impression that Catra was in on the joke. Catra, for her part, wass too busy trying to figure out how she’d get out of this mess to respond. She could kill Mercato, hope no one else got a good look at her… no, Catra’s ears twitched under her hood. She could hear people approaching the bar, coming to investigate now that the fight seemed to have wrapped up. She didn't have time to kill Mercato and get out before witnesses got here, and if they saw her with the body she’d be in even more trouble. ‘ _ Besides, you can’t just kill people because they know too much. Not if you want to be better.’ _ Adora’s voice again, but damn her she’s right. Just like fukcing always. “I can’t help but notice you seem to be in a spot of trouble. Now, it happens that I was coming here to find a strapping young warrior who could be induced to guard my cargo, and myself, from bandits and other such repobrates as we travelled through this desolate wasteland. It occurs to me that you are just such a warrior, and, not only that, you are a warrior who is in dire need of transportation out of here before the Rainbow Rangers--”

“The what?” Catra interrupted, frozen in place as she struggled to process everything going on around her. 

“The Rainbow Rangers,” Mercato frowned, clearly unused to being interrupted, and gestured towards the three kerchiefed thugs who had started this mess, “Founded by Huntara to liberate the Waste from the Horde’s tyranny, they now serve as what in the Waste passes for a police force. And while they might be willing to ignore a barroom brawl, they look poorly on those who harm their own, particularly when the party in question is so obviously a Horde deserter.” As he made this last point Mercato nodded at Catra, chins jiggling. Catra blinked at him in response. He… didn’t recognize her? She felt perversely insulted. She was Catra! Hordak’s Red Right Hand! The woman who had single handedly brought the Horde closer to victory than they had ever been! People spoke of her in whispers, terrified of incurring her wrath! How could he not recognize her!? 

Catra felt increasingly off-kilter and so she was as surprised as anyone when she opened her mouth and said, “The Rainbow Rangers? They seriously call themselves that?That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.” And she laughed, a high and squeaky sound that’s just a bit hysterical.

To Catra’s surprise Mercato joined her, breaking out into a deep belly laugh full of what seems to be genuine amusement. “It is a stupid name, isn’t it,” he said, flashing Catra a grin that made him seem half as old and twice as likeable. “Still, they are quite dangerous, and we are running out of time. These three would have been traveling with companions, and they’ll be here soon. So what do you say? Room, board, and travel out this hellhole in return keeping the jackals off my cargo until we reach my destination?” 

Catra briefly paused to consider the offer, but this wasn’t really a choice. The people she had heard earlier would arrive in a couple of minutes, and she couldn’t be here when that happened. If this Sea Elf could get her out here she would do whatever he wanted. “Let's go,” Catra said, pulling her hood down as she headed towards the exit.

“Splendid! I think this will be the beginnings of a beautiful partnership!” Mercato said, turning to lead the way. 

“Hey,” Catra asked as she ducked into the sunlight, “Where are we going, anway?”

“A peaceful little town called Oasis. Don’t worry, the Rangers will never look for you there, my fine-furred companion” Mercato replied as he walked (well, waddled) over towards a beat up land skiff stuffed to the figurative gills with all manner of cargo, “Speaking of which, I never did get your name.”

Catra froze. She’d never considered an alias before, to be honest. Still, using one made sense. Mercato may not have recognized her face, but even he would recognize her name. And if he didn’t, someone else would. No, she couldn’t be Catra anymore. More than that, she didn’t  _ want _ to be Catra anymore. Catra failed. Catra  _ lost _ . Catra… Catra hurt people. So she wouldn’t be Catra anymore. She’d be… “Call me Stray,” Stray said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm planning to update this once every week or so, so if you liked this chapter stay tuned! I'd also like to thank QwahaXahn for his feedback on this chapter, without it I would have never had the courage to post this! I hope y'all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it!


	2. A Soldier Without A Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora stalks her ex.

Adora clamped one hand over the sentry’s mouth as the other arm went under his chin to form start choking him out. As the sentry slowly fell unconscious, Adora took a moment to scan the enemy camp. She was… disappointed. The ‘New Horde’, as they called themselves, had formed around a core of disaffected Horde soldiers who refused to accept the Alliances victory in the war. Under the leadership of a mysterious masked woman, known only as the Cat, they had gone from raiding the occasional supply convoy to sacking entire towns. The New Horde was supposed to be the most dangerous of the Horde remnants, a present and active threat to the newly established peace. So Adora was surprised when, looking at their camp, she saw no sign of the harsh military discipline that had infused all aspects of life in the Horde. Instead she saw a bunch of disorderly, drunken louts in mismatched equipment, who could only be distinguished from common bandits by the red horde symbol they all wore. 

Adora lowered the now unconscious sentry and, creeping forward through the bush, focused on her target for tonight: a large beige tent in the center of the New Horde camp. She had insisted that she be the one to take out the New Horde’s enigmatic leader, while Bow and Swift Wind distracted her men with a frontal assault. An assault that should be starting any… second… now… There was a sudden flash of light from the other side of the camp, as several of the tents caught fire and soldiers wearing the distinctive armor of Bright Moon guards began streaming out of the woods. Chaos filled the camp as New Horde ‘soldiers’ desperately rallied to beat back this sudden ambush. Adora readied her combat staff and gestured for her own, smaller, squad of Bright Moon soldiers to follow her as she charged into the fray.

Adora’s squad encountered almost no resistance as they made their way through the New Horde encampment. The defenders, distracted by the terrifying spectacle of a flying horse wielding a flail with his mouth, paid no intention to Adora’s squad as they crept through the tight, winding streets created by tents set up with no overall plan. Adora’s luck ran out, however, when they reached the center of the camp. 

Two New Horde soldiers, wearing a mix of standard-issue Horde armor and looted clothing, guarded the entrance to the Cat’s tent. Ducking out of said entrance was a four-armed Reptilian woman Adora remembered seeing with Catra in the Crimson Waste. Upon seeing the intruders the Reptilian froze, before angrily hissing as she surged forward, knives in all four hands.

“Keep her off me,” Adora ordered, “I’m going after the Cat.” Her soldiers saluted in response, two of them rushing past her to engage the Reptilian, while rest went to deal with the two guards. One of the guards managed to lunge at her with his stun baton, but she easily countered, knocking him back into one of her soldiers as she ducked into the tent. 

“Surrender now and no one else needs to get hurt,” Adora said, holding her staff at the ready, eyes rapidly scanning the command tent's interior. It was a mess, with every surface covered in piles of random loot and assorted junk. The Cat had been rising from her desk when Adora entered, hand going for the whip she wore at her side. The Cat was dressed for the most part in standard Horde armor. The exception was her helmet, which had two triangular metal caps welded on top of it that resembled cat ears. Adora could feel her heart beating faster as she took all this in. The slender build. The whip. The ears. Still, something wasn’t right. The Cat was still frozen in the same position she had been in when Adora first entered. She was just standing there. Not moving. Silent. “What, no insults? No clever quips? Aren’t you going to say anything, Cat?” Adora asked.

This, finally provoked a reaction from the bandit queen, who backed away from her desk and raised her whip, dropping into a fighting stance. Adora felt her heart begin to pound and a small smile break across her face as she readied herself for battle… only to blink in surprise when the Cat  _ threw _ her whip straight at Adora and turned to run, cutting open the back of the tent with a small combat knife.

Adora deflected the improvised projectile without any apparent effort, staring after the fleeing general as a strange sort of anger built in her chest.  _ I spent months tracking you down! I didn’t sleep for a week because I was too busy mapping your attack patterns! I had to strong arm the entire Princess Alliance into letting me lead this attack! And after all that _ ,“You just RUN AWAY!?” Adora screams as she chases after the Cat, gaining on her despite the bandit’s longer legs.  _ Wait, that’s wrong, Catra and I were the same… _ Adora shakes her head. She can’t let herself get distracted.

The Cat’s at the very edge of the camp when Adora catches up. The woman glances behind her, a terrified spurt of energy running through her when she realizes just how close Adora is. It’s a wasted effort. Adora’s staff comes up, whistling through the air as it slams into the Cat’s thigh. There’s an ugly cracking sound and the bandit goes sprawling. Adora pauses for a moment, breathing heavily, as her arm goes up and she prepares to knock the Cat unconscious.

“For the Horde!” a cry rings out behind her and Adora whirls, staff at the ready, as an entire squad of New Horde soldiers charged at her. Adora glances around and nearly curses. She’s chased the Cat nearly out of the camp, and, in the process, separated herself from her allies. She’s going to have to deal with this threat on her own. Out of the corner her eye Adora can see the Cat beginning to crawl away and she forces down a sudden surge of frustration. She has five active threats running towards her. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by a downed enemy, no matter how important she was to the mission.

Three of the approaching soldiers shot her with their batons. Adora used her staff to deflect one laser blast and dodged between the other two. She frowned. Getting out of this will be… tricky to say the least. She can’t let them surround her. Maybe if she charges the edge of their formation she can get around them?

The bandits were almost upon Adora when, suddenly, the soldier at the center of their formation collapsed. Adora blinked, and suddenly Swift Wind was in the middle of their formation dispensing broken bones and concussions to all who dared approach, with Bow riding on his back. Adora noticed two arrows sticking out of the lead bandits' kneecaps, and realized Bow was the reason for his sudden tumble. Within seconds no enemy is left standing. 

Adora felt herself relax, only to tense up immediately as Bow rounded on her, “Adora! What were you doing charging in here without your squad! You could’ve been killed!”

“Yeah Adora,” Swift said, “As your steed I have to be honest, this was kind of stupid of you. You need to be careful, you’re not…”

“...Not She-Ra anymore,” Adora interjected, exasperated, “I know! What was I supposed to do, let the Cat get away?” Adora meant for that last part sound scathing. It came out as more of a plaintive cry. Bow and Swift deflated, shot each other a guilty glance, and turned to look behind Adora. Adora follows their gaze and sees the Cat, collapsed on the ground several meters from where Adora left her. 

“Do you think she’s… Her?” Bow asks tentatively. 

“No, not anymore, she’s too tall,” Adora says, “Still, only one way to be sure.” Adora strides over to the Cat and, in a single motion, rips her helmet off. The Cat is revealed to be… a vaguely familiar satyr? Adora remembers seeing her before, when they were captured in the Crimson Waste, but her name… “Didn’t Catra call you Kyle?” Adora asks.

“I surrender! Please don’t kill me! I didn’t mean for things to get this bad! Really! I just wanted a helmet that would fit my horns, then the next thing I know people are mistaking me for the Boss! I just wanted to eat hot food and have some nice things, we barely hurt anyone, really, I didn’t do anything worth sending She-Ra after me, please don’t kill me! I’ll do anything you want…” The woman, Kyle(?), goes on and on, like a dam has burst and flooded the world with terrified begging instead of water. Adora weighs her combat staff in her hands experimentally. It would be wrong to knock a prisoner unconscious just to shut her up. It would be. And yet…

Whoosh. Adora’s train of thought is interrupted by the flight of an arrow which, as it approaches Kyle’s head, splits into two halves, a small cloth banner fluttering between them. The halves zoom right past the woman’s ears, whipping around the back of her head and recombining as the cloth banner catches around Kyle’s face. There’s a small whirring sound, and the gag, for that is what this is, tightens over Kyle’s mouth, stemming her begging. At the same time the flights of the two arrows hinge around the bandits ears, their fletching turned into impromptu ear plugs. Adora turns toward Bow, who is in the middle of lowering his bow and blinks. A gag arrow. He had a gag arrow. She stifled a smile. Never change, Bow.

“Sorry about that,” Bow told probably-not-actually Kyle, “We’re not going to hurt you, just take you back to Bright Moon to stand trial.” This does not reassure the woman. “Adora, are you okay?” Bow asked, turning his attention towards her, “ I know you were really hoping that this time you would finally find-”

“A dangerous group of Horde remnants,” Adora interrupted, “Which is exactly what we found.” She softened, “I’m fine guys, really. You don’t need to worry about me. Let’s just get our-uff,” Adora grunted as she leaned down and hauled the New Horde captain across her shoulders, “Captive back to Bright Moon and debrief the Queen. The sooner we do that, the sooner we can get back to rooting out the rest of the holdouts.” 

Bow and Swift Wind shared a concerned look as they followed behind Adora. “What other holdouts? The New Horde was one of the last bits of organized resistance to the Alliance. The only other Horde remnant of any size is Captain Octavia’s pirate fleet, and Sea Hawk is handling that,” Bow said. 

Adora frowns and replies, “Catra’s still out there, whatever Glimm - whatever the Queen tells the public, and she won’t go down without a fight. She’s biding her time, I know it. If we haven’t heard about her rallying the Horde, that’s just because she’s being quiet about it.”

“Adora, it’s been eight months and we haven’t seen or heard anything to indicate Catra’s still out there. This,” and Bow gestures around at the destroyed New Horde camp, “was our last lead. You need to face the fact that there’s a chance… a chance that she’s really… y’know… dead.”

Adora stopped cold. “Catra,” she hisses, rounding on Bow, “Is. Not. Dead. She can’t be dead, she’s too fucking stubborn to die. She wouldn’t let herself. Not when she still hasn’t beaten me. You think I’m crazy, don’t you? I’m not. I once saw Catra claw herself out of the dimensional abyss with nothing but the power of spite. Catra’s still alive because she is far too bitter, spiteful, and stubborn to let something like death prevent her from fucking with me!” Adora paused, panting, eyes wide, before continuing in a softer, quieter tone, “...Just… Just trust me okay? She’s alive. She has to be… alive....” Adora’s voice broke on that final word, and she turned her face away from the others to hide the tears streaming down her cheeks. The group traveled in silence for the rest of their journey back to Bright Moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone likes the chapter! See you all next week! Also, if anyone has an idea for a better chapter summary, please leave it in the comments! Thanks!


	3. A Good Offense Is The Best Defense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catra discovers the solution of all of life's problems.

Stray was almost glad when the caravan was ambushed. Sure, dodging arrows and grappling lines wasn’t ideal, but at least it wasn’t another of Mercato’s stupid stories. Stray had learned a lot about the Sea Elf as they travelled to Oasis. Mostly, she had learned that he loved the sound of his own voice. The man would just not stop  _ talking _ . He talked about how he'd spent years traveling the ocean with his mother, the master merchant Mermama, trading with every coastal community on Etheria. He talked about the daring trades he’d helped her make and the strange people they’d met. He talked about how he’d scrimped and saved enough money to buy his own ship and break out from his mother’s smothering tutelage. He talked about his hopes and dreams for the future, about his desire to finally prove himself, and about a bunch of other things Stray  _ just did not care about _ . Compared to the mind numbing boredom of listening to him describe (for the fifth time) how breathtakingly brilliant and audacious his move to the Crimson Waste had been, risking her life to fight bandits was practically fun.

The raiders had three land skiffs, Horde-surplus if Stray wasn’t mistaken, and they’d deployed them in a pincer formation, with Mercato’s skiff stuck in the middle. The one piece of good news was that the bandits had come from behind, so she and Mercato were fleeing straight toward Oasis.

Stray ducked under a trio of arrows and cut another grappling line. “How long till we reach town?!” She yelled at Mercato, who was hunched over the skiff's controls, trying (and mostly failing) to make himself a smaller target. 

“We’re close,” he shouted back, “We’ll be within sight of the walls within a quarter hour at most!”

Stray hissed. That was close—close enough that she started to worry about why Oasis would let bandits set up this close to town (even though, for Mercato and Stray, it wasn’t close enough). She looked back at the bandits. The rightmost skiff was a bit ahead of the others and pulling closer every second. She didn’t know if it had a faster engine or what, but it would be on them within minutes. And even if it didn’t- Stray pounced forward, knocking a grappling hook out of the air with her claws -even if it didn’t, Stray would eventually miss one of these grappling hooks and they would be towed in.

“Can you get us there any faster?!” She yelled back, desperate.

“I’m trying!” Mercato shouted, “This is as fast as she can go!”

Stray ducked behind a crate of Princess of Ice Cream TM Ice Cream and felt it shake under the impact of more arrows. Turning back to Mercato, she asked, “What if we dumped some of the cargo? Got rid of the weight?” 

“Absolutely not!” Mercato shouted back, “A master merchant does not abandon his cargo and I am most definitely a master merchant!”

Stray risked a glance over the crate. The rightmost skiff was almost touching their stern. A little closer, and the bandits would be able to jump onboard. “Well, you’ll be a dead master merchant if you don’t dump your cargo now!” Stray said.

“No!” Mercato screamed back, half-mad with panic, “We are not dumping the cargo and that is final!”

Stray paused, wondering if turning over a new leaf meant having to follow orders that were this fucking stupid. Then, she began throwing Mercato’s cargo overboard. Stray briefly considered sending the fat fool over the rail as well and escaping by herself, but that seemed to be a bridge too far for her inner-Adora (also, the last time she’d tried piloting one these things, she crashed it and her cru-her friend turned into a eight-foot tall glowing warrior woman who hated her). 

Stray looked back at their pursuers and felt herself grin. It was probably costing Mercato a fortune (not that she cared), but getting rid of the extra weight was working. The gap between them and the rightmost skiff had actually widened as Mercato’s skiff bucked forward, happy to leave its baggage behind. Stray turned back to Mercato and asked, “How much longer now?”

“Five minutes!” He called back, his previous anger replaced by hope, “We’ll be in sight of the town walls in five minutes!”

*Clang* *Clang* Stray’s answering smile was interrupted by the distinctive sound of grappling hooks. “Fuck!” She cursed. It’s the rightmost skiff again, its crew had managed to wedge not one, but two grappling hooks into the metal skin of their skiff. Stray moved to sever the lines and free the skiff again, but was driven back by a hail of arrows. The gap, which had been widening as they pulled ahead, started shrinking as the bandits tied-off the lines and hauled Mercato’s skiff in.

The bandits would be close enough to board within seconds, and Stray couldn’t get close enough to cut those fucking ropes. She needed to do something unexpected, something they couldn’t anticipate. Stray thought of Sparkles and how she’d beaten Catra. The glitter princess had attacked, when Catra had assumed she’d be stuck defending (Stray very carefully did not think about the reason for that assumption). She pushed the memory away and grinned (well, bared her teeth. Same difference). Now this might actually be fun. She threw a tub of ice cream (What the hell was chocolate anyway? Was it like brown ration bars?) back towards the grappling hooks to draw fire, and then leaped up and over her cover, flinging herself over a gap that was (for now) too large for any non-feline to risk. 

Stray landed on the bow of the enemy skiff, directly in the middle of a trio of archers who had just finished turning a tub ice cream into a pincushion. Stray tossed the three stooges overboard before they had time to react and charged forward towards the next victim, a tall, snake-like Reptilian armed with a stun baton, which she was happy to relieve him of. She doesn’t have time to hesitate, or to cut the grappling lines. The only way Stray could win a fight this ludicrously one-sided was to seize the initiative and never, ever, give it back. She scythed through six more bandits in quick succession before encountering a foe who presented an actual challenge. They were a Bestial, like Grizzlor, short, stocky, and armed with a truly enormous battle axe.

“You’re going through my crew like butter. What the hell are you?” They asked. Ah, it seems Stray had found the ‘Captain’ of this mighty vessel. She sneered.

“Competent,” Stray answered as she lunged forward, trying to get inside the axe's reach. Unfortunately, the Captain was (slightly) more skilled than their crew, and Stray leapt straight in the air to avoid a vicious axe stroke. Stray then pushed off the flat of the axeblade, leapfrogging over the Captain’s head and twisting around, slamming her stolen baton between the Bestial’s shoulder blades and feeling herself grin as they spasmed and collapsed. Stray looked down at the defeated Captain, feeling an odd sense of deja-vu.  _ “Get her out of here!” Catra half screamed, staring down at the tiny, terribly still body on the floor and wondering what had she done? / “Oh man, that was a lot stronger than I thought!” Catra said, trying to play it off as a joke, as if this was nothing more than a childish prank, as if the girl sprawled before her hadn’t just ripped Catra’s heart out of her chest. _ Catr- Stray flinched as the memories blurred together, almost absently flinging over the side a bandit who thought to capitalize on her sudden confusion. 

“No!” Stray screamed, not realizing she’d spoken out loud till the words had left her throat, “This is different! I’m doing the right thing! I’m going to be better!”

But as Stray disposed of the rest of the crew, cut the grapple lines, and rigged this skiff's controls to send it straight into the path of the middle skiff, the same questions rang in her head, asked in a voice that was not Adora’s, but Shadow Weaver’s:  _ Is it? Are you? Can you? Or will you fail at being good, just as you have at everything else? _

Mercato shot her a jubilant look when she leapt back aboard his skiff, and then blinked as he stared at Stray’s face. She wasn’t sure what expression she was making. She just felt… numb.

There was an explosion as the rightmost and middle skiffs careened into each other, bandits leaping overboard in a desperate attempt to escape. That just left the leftmost skiff, which wasn’t going to catch up in time. Sure enough, it broke off just before they came within sight of Oasis, its crew hooting and jeering at Mercato and Stray as they ran away. Stray ignored their insults. It was nothing less than she deserved. Stray was shocked out of her mood, however, by her first glimpse of Oasis. Someone had turned Mercato’s ‘peaceful little town’ into a Princess-damned fortress. 

Oasis was, as the name implied, an oasis, a small island of green in the red desert, watered by a small stream that emerged from a nearby mesa. The town, built around the spring, was sheltered on three sides by the mountain it emerged from. On the fourth side the townspeople had improvised a wall, one made of mud, loose stones, and assorted junk. There was a small gap in the wall, a gate presumably, which was blocked not by a door but by what Stray would swear was a fully functional Horde artillery tank. Surrounding the tank, and standing on top of the more stable sections of the wall, were a disparate collection of heavily armed townspeople who were all pointing their weapons at Stray and Mercato. Not to mention the  _ damned tank _ which looked ready and willing to blow their skiff out of the desert. 

“Stop where you are and identify yourself,” one of the townspeople demanded, a tall Etherian woman with a distinctive, oddly familiar, scar across her nose. “We will shoot you if you refuse to comply.”

“Oh no need for that, no need for that,” Mercato hurriedly assured the armed mob as he brought the skiff to a stop. “I am Mercato, master merchant, and I come bearing any number of goods that delight the mind, fill the belly, and please the senses! If I could have the pleasure of your name, my dear…?”

“You may call me Juliet, I’m the mayor here” the Etherian said, “You say you’re a merchant? How did you make it through the blockade? We haven’t had any trade for months now.”

“I am indeed a merchant! The greatest merchant in the Waste, in fact! And, a blockade...? Ah you mean those bandits! Well, they did attempt to molest us, it's true, but the quick thinking of my guard saved her life and my own!” Mercato replied boisterously, before turning towards Stray and saying, “Thank you for that, by the way. If you hadn’t sacrificed my cargo and risked yourself on that skiff, I, and my legend, would be dead. I owe you my life Stray, and Mercato never forgets a debt!”

Stray blinks, and pulls down her hood to hide her blush. Her superiors ( _ Shadow Weaver _ ) didn’t normally thank her for a job well done, especially when she explicitly disobeyed orders. She wasn’t really sure what to do with gratitude. “I was just doing my job,” Stray muttered, looking away, “You hired me to defend you from bandits and I did that. No need to make a big deal about it.”

“Stray is it?” the woman, Juliet, asked, staring at Stray with an odd expression on her face. Stray was suddenly glad she’d pulled her hood down for entirely different reasons. She’d let herself grow complacent, traveling with Mercato. She could not afford to be recognized, especially not by this woman she was sure she’d met before but could not remember for the life of her. 

“That’s my name,” Stray replied shortly.

“I see,” Juliet said, “Oasis thanks you both, Master Mercato and Mistress Stray, and welcomes you into its walls. As I said, we haven’t had trade for months, and have been running low on several essentials. We’d be happy to offer you housing and food for whatever supplies you have left.”

“Ah… forgive me for my rudeness Mayor, but I hardly think it fair to trade premium goods, brought to you from all over Etheria, in return for a few nights lodging!” Mercato, clearly suppressing outrage, replied.

“For a few nights? Yes that would be highway robbery,” Juliet replied, unruffled, as she started walking back into town, “For a few months on the other hand? That, I should think, is a more than fair deal.”

“The bandits. They’re stopping anyone from leaving town. Why?” Stray asked, leaning past Mercato (who had frozen in horror at the idea of being stuck here for months) in order to start his skiff moving gently after the Mayor. 

“Originally? Money,” Juliet replied as she passed through the gate. “We’re a mining town, a new one, founded by independent prospectors shortly after the war. We’ve been trading small geodes and such with some some independent traders for supplies for a while now,” and she nodded towards Mercato, “But this was going to be our first big shipment of ore, enough to earn the capital we need to keep Oasis independent from DEMA and start modernizing our mining operation. We had it all ready to be shipped when the raiders showed up. They probably thought we were a soft target, a bunch of civilians they could intimidate into handing over the ore without a fight.”

“Clearly nobody told them about the tank,” Stray said, gesturing at the vehicle in question as Mercato’s skiff squeezed by it. “How’d you get your hands on that, by the way? It looks like Horde surplus.”

“Ron and Laura arrived in it,” Juliet replied shortly, waving briefly at the Reptilian sticking his head out of the tank’s top. 

“And you didn’t… I don’t know… arrest them? They’re clearly Horde soldiers,” Stray wasn’t sure why she was asking that question. It was jaw-droppingly hypocritical, even for her. It just seemed… unfair somehow, that she had to hide her face while Etheria welcomed the rest of the Horde with open arms.  _ You know that’s not true Catra, _ Adora chided,  _ You saw the soldiers at the Last Chance. No one was welcoming them with open arms. Besides, you can hardly complain about being treated differently than the average Horde soldier. Wasn’t that exactly what you worked so hard for? _

Juliet gave Stray a strange look. As if she too could sense the hilarity inherent in  _ Stray _ asking that question, of all people, and said, “I’ve spent my entire life fighting a war we seemed doomed to lose. I cannot understand why people insist on continuing it after, against all odds, we finally won. This is the Waste. Life is hard enough out here without fighting yesterday’s wars. Your past is your business. All that matters out here is how you choose to act now, and Laura and Ron have chosen to risk their lives defending our home. I would be a fool to arrest them over old crimes.”

“A most practical approach!” Mercato enthused, leaning out of his skiff dangerously as, behind him, the Horde tank moved back , “but, if I may Madam Mayor, you seem to have wandered away from the subject at hand: That is, why I, and my cargo, will be stuck here for a matter of months?”

Juliet shot Mercato a long-suffering look. “Yes. Quite. As I was saying, the bandits tried to seize our ore, but we managed to fight them off. They’ve since set up a blockade around town, attacking anyone and everyone who tries to leave, and, apparently, everyone who tries to come as well. We, and the ore, have been stuck here for months.”

Stray frowned. That made no sense. There was profit to be gained in besieging a small town over a single shipment of ore. Sure, the bandits were probably making some money by picking off caravans that came to trade with Oasis, but not nearly enough to justify the risk of staying in place for so long. Eventually,  _ someone _ would notice that Oasis had dropped off the map, and when they did these bandits - spread out and dispersed in order to cover every route to and from the town - would be easy prey. Why were the bandits here? Stray asked as much of the Mayor as they progressed deeper into town.

“As far as I can tell? Pride.” Juliet said. “The bandits’ leader, Rabido, thought this would be an easy raid. When we fought him off, he took it personally. Some people,” and Juliet turned to look at Stray directly as she said this, “Would rather burn the world down then admit that they’ve lost.”

Stray froze. She knew. She had to. No way that was coincidence. What the hell was she going to do?! She was trapped in this podunk town run by a former Rebellion soldier who  _ knew who she was _ . How the hell was she going to get out of this?  _ Maybe you don’t have to _ , Adora offered,  _ You heard what she said about forgetting the past. She hasn’t said anything yet, and so long as you don’t act the same way now, she might never say anything at all. In fact, you should offer to join the town’s defense, show her you're willing to help. _ Stray was just about to explain to her inner-(lovable) idiot why that was a terrible idea when Mercato spoke up again, “So, as I understand it, your plan is to wait until the Rainbow Rangers realize they’ve lost contact with Oasis and send a force to investigate? I must say, I do not approve. We could be waiting here for months!” 

“And what else would you have me do?” Juliet asked, clearly annoyed. “We’ve tried to send messengers out to get help. Rabido had his men dump their corpses outside our walls. I refuse to risk anyone else. The raiders can’t breach our defenses, and we have enough food and water to last for years, if necessary. So long as we stay here, we’re safe.”

Stray realized that she’d seen this exact strategy before. It was how Bright Moon had operated during the war: Constantly on the defensive, risk-averse, acting only to try to gather the support of their allies. It was the strategy that had nearly lost them the war, till Sparkles had abandoned it utterly. Stray had a number of reasons for speaking up then. She really didn’t want to spend months trapped with a woman who knew who she really was. She really  _ really _ didn’t want to be ‘rescued’ by the Rainbow Rangers, if they ever showed up. But more than anything else Stray wanted to prove that she could be good, be  _ useful _ , in the way Laura and Ron were. So Stray said what she’d been thinking ever since she’d first set eyes on Oasis’s defences. “You should attack the bandits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you like the chapter! It's mostly set up for stuff that's gonna happen later, but I hope you like it. I'm not too happy with the title though, and if anyone can think of a better one, please let me know! Edit: I'd like to really thank my beta readers. They helped me find a ton of minor typos and formatting errors in this and previous chapters. I've fixed the errors and updated all of the chapters posted so far. Thank you so much!


	4. Government By Committee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Princess Alliance discovers that peace is harder than war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This chapter has not been beta read yet, so if you spot any errors, please let me know in the comments!

The trip back to Bright Moon had been uneventful. The Cat hadn’t even tried to escape once, and neither Bow nor Swiftwind had brought up Catra again. After handing the Cat over to Bright Moon’s guards, the three friends headed up to the War Room. A meeting of the Princess Alliance was scheduled for today, and it was time for them to report. 

Adora felt a familiar surge of emotion when she saw Glimm- the Queen, waiting for them outside the War Room. Anger, regret, affection, and frustration roiled inside Adora, a cocktail of emotions she had no idea how to deal with. So she didn’t, stopping just before the doors and saluting. The Queen’s face, which had brightened when she saw them, stiffened as she took in Adora’s professional demeanor.

“General Adora, it is good to see you unharmed. Was the mission a success?” The Queen asked. Adora wasn’t sure why she had replaced Juliet as general, but suspected it was a way to avoid dealing with the fact that she was no longer She-Ra and thus, no longer a princess. The Queen had pointedly avoided looking at Bow when addressing them, and he was ignoring her in turn. Adora wasn’t quite sure what was going on with those two. They had, as far as Adora knew, had only one conversation since the Heart was activated, and that had ended with the Queen in tears and Bow angrier than she had ever seen him. Neither had spoken to the other since. 

Swift Wind nudged Adora in the back, and she realized that she had yet to answer the Queen’s question. Flushing with embarrassment, Adora saluted again and said, “The mission was a complete success Your Majesty. The New Horde has been neutralized as a threat, its leader taken into custody.” 

“You captured the Cat? Is she really…” The Queen suddenly stopped, looking behind Adora at Swiftwind, who had begun to shake his head vigorously. “Oh,” she said, “I take it the Cat wasn't...wasn’t who we hoped she would be?”

“The Cat proved to be a former bandit who joined the Horde after they conquered the Crimson Waste. Horde records list her as ‘Kyle’ but I sincerely doubt that’s her real name,” Adora said. 

“I see,” the Queen said, visibly deflating, “Well, good job anyways. Come on in, let's get this meeting started.” Adora passed between the double doors of the War Room, and found herself in the middle of a familiar argument.

“My kingdom was, like, burned to the ground. We cannot even start, like, rebuilding, because Octavia’s fleet is being such a fucking pain. We need Alliance support or else my subjects will, like, never be able to go home. So you can go jump in a ditch flower power,” Mermista said, her relaxed posture belied by the murderous glare she was directing across the council table at Perfuma.

“While I appreciate that your people desire to return home, they at least have the opportunity to feed themselves with nature’s bounty. The Scorpion Kingdom, thanks to Hordak’s complete lack of harmony with the universe, has no nature to speak of, and is entirely reliant upon our aid if it wants to feed itself. If we pull soldiers from the caravan routes to bolster the Salinean Reclamation Fleet, then Scorpia’s entire kingdom will starve to death!” Plumeria screamed, practically vibrating with anger as Scorpia tried to calm the other Princess down and shot apologetic glances at everyone else in the room. 

“I’m not, like, asking you to leave every fucking caravan unguarded for the New Horde to raid. Just fucking-” Mermist was cut off.

“I, Queen Glimmer of Bright Moon, hereby bring this meeting of the Princess Alliance to order,” Glimmer nearly shouted to be heard above everyone else in the room.

“That’s, like, great for you Glimmer, but if we could get back to discussing the caravan problem-” Mermist began again, looking annoyed.

“Actually, the caravan problem has been dealt with,” the Queen quickly headed off another argument. “Just today General Adora and her squad raided the camp of the so-called New Horde and captured the bandits and their leader. With them gone, we can easily redeploy our soldiers to the SRF and help you deal with your pirate problem.” The Queen nodded at Mermista as she said this. 

“You have Catra?!” Scorpia interjected, suddenly far more animated than she had been before. The rest of the rebellion had also perked up, staring at the Queen with the same question reflected in their eyes.

“Unfortunately, no,” The Queen sighed, “The Cat, it turns out, was just a jumped up bandit with delusions of grandeur. We have no fucking idea where Catra is.” Every eye in the room swung towards Adora, who stood stoically to the right of the Queen. 

“Oh,” Scorpia said, clearly dejected, “So I guess we’re back to square one on the whole finding Catra thing then.”

The Queen grimaced, “It’s worse than that. We’ve been working under the assumption that Catra would seek out the remnants of the Horde and rally them to her cause. With the New Horde dealt with, the only other Horde remnant anyone cares about is Octavia’s fleet, and unless you think Catra has sought shelter there-?” The Queen directed this question at Adora, who shook her head.

“Catra hates water and she  _ hates _ Octavia. The feeling is mutual, on both counts. I’d sooner look for her in Bright Moon than with Octavia,” Adora said.

“-then not only do not know where Catra is, we also have no idea where she might be,” the Queen continued, “Which means we need an entirely new strategy to find her.”

“You know,” Mermista said, “This would be, like, a lot easier if you hadn’t told everyone she was dead.”

“You know why we needed to do that,” the Queen argued, “Our victory against the Horde relied on their soldiers surrendering after we decimated their command structure. If we had let out that Catra had not only survived, but actually escaped? Every Horde unit on Etheria would have had a figurehead to rally around. Even if we had eventually beaten them all, how long till someone decided to claim Catra’s mantle? The Cat managed to gather dozens of Horde veterans to her cause with nothing but an oddly shaped helmet. How much worse would things have been if people knew Catra was actually alive?”

“I, like, get that,” Mermista replied, “I’m just, like, saying that finding her would be a lot easier if we could put up wanted posters and everything.”

The Queen opened her mouth to respond only to be interrupted by a voice that made Adora flinch, even after all these years. “Catra and Octavia are both irrelevant. Without the backing of the Horde, neither possess the power to be a real threat. Horde Prime does. And if you  _ continue _ to waste troops fighting jumped up pirates, he will arrive to find Etheria’s space fleet half-built and without fuel. You must send your troops to the Waste as soon as possible, or we are all doomed,” Shadow Weaver said as she stepped out from the pillar she’d been lurking behind. Well, that explained King Micah’s absence. His Majesty vocally detested Shadow Weaver, and had taken to protesting her continued presence in Bright Moon by boycotting any meeting she attended. 

Frosta stood up and said what everyone else was thinking, “Why should we listen to anything you say? So far, all your advice has done is nearly get us all killed.” She then turned toward the Queen and asked, “Glimmer, why is she even here? After everything she’s done, she should be in a cell.”

The Queen gave Shadow Weaver a frustrated glance before answering, “Frosta, things are more complicated than that. Shadow Weaver will face justice, I promise you all, but for now we need her too much to just lock her in our spare room. Entrapta needs help figuring out how Mara’s ship uses magic, and Shadow Weaver, unfortunately, is the closest thing we have to an expert on using magic with First Ones tech.” Scorpia shivered at the reminder of what Shadow Weaver had done to her family's runestone. 

The Queen turned from Frosta in order to look at Shadow Weaver with one eyebrow raised, saying, “However, Frosta does raise a good point. Why should we listen to your  _ advice _ , given its… track record?”

Shadow Weaver gave an elegant shrug, replying, “The Heart of Etheria was a mistake, I admit it, but it is also irrelevant to this conversation. I understand that you don’t trust me. You don’t have to. The facts speak for themselves: The First One’s vessel can only be powered by Thulite. The only location on Etheria possessing a sufficient amount of Thulite to power your fleet is the Crimson Waste. The Wastes are completely infested with bandits and Horde rejects. These scum are an obstruction to DEMA’s work, one which Huntara has utterly failed to remove. Without DEMA’s Thulite, all of the work Dryl is putting towards developing your fleet is wasted effort. Etheria will survive if Salineas is not reinforced. It may not if you continue to ignore the Waste.”

Adora frowned.  _...ignore the Waste _ . Why did that phrase tickle something in the back of her head?

Before Adora could get much further than that, Mermista spoke up, tone venomous, “Like, how do we know that Horde Prime even exists? Hordak could have been, like lying, or crazy. He’s the only person whose, like, actually seen Prime. If a giant space Horde was gonna show up to invade us, wouldn’t they have, like, done it by now? My people are fighting an enemy we  _ know _ is real. The Wastes have been full of criminals and defectors for, like, ever. Huntara can have those troops after my home is actually fucking safe!”

“I don’t recall suggesting  _ Huntara _ be given any troops. She has bungled quite enough. DEMA’s local representative would be best placed to determine where troops are needed,” Shadow Weaver answered coolly, “And you are a fool if you think Horde Prime is a madman’s delusion. Where, exactly, do you think Hordak came from? Did he simply spring out of ground, armed with technology so powerful that it let him singlehandedly conquer an entire kingdom? No. Hordak came from somewhere, and one day his people will find us. If we are not ready when they do so… well, Hordak alone nearly conquered Etheria. How well do you think you’ll fare against his entire people?” 

“Uh, hold up a second,” Scorpia interjected. “I’m not, uh, really sure about all this Horde Prime stuff, but this whole sending troops the Waste idea… it, uh, seems a little rude to not have Huntara in charge of any troops we send to her kingdom, dontcha think?”

“Yes, it does,” the Queen agreed, glaring, at Shadow Weaver. “Huntara, as the leader of the Crimson Wastes, will, of course, retain command of any troops we do send there.”

“Wait, you're not, like, actually considering sending troops, are you?” Mermista asked, incensed, “Because, really, Glimmer?! Your going to let fucking Shadow Weaver tell you what to do, again?”

The Queen hesitated, clearly torn. Adora, meanwhile, was thinking. Thinking about where she’d seen not-actually-Kyle before. Thinking about what Mermista and Shadow Weaver had both said:  _ …Horde rejects…full of...defectors…  _ And suddenly, Adora knew where Catra was. “I’ll go,” Adora said, “Me, Bow, and Swift Wind. We can help Huntara clear out the bandits, and get DEMA’s shipments moving, while you guys send most of our troops to Salineas.” Adora paused briefly and shot a guilty glance at her horse and her friend, “Uh, that is if you guys want to come with. I understand if you don’t…”

“Of course we’re coming with you,” Bow said warmly, as Swift Wind nodded beside him, “We’re your friends.”

“Ador- General, are you sure?” The Queen asked, “I thought you were going to look for Catra?”

“I am,” Adora said, straightening her shoulders to project a confidence she didn’t feel, “I believe Catra is hiding in the Waste. We’ve been assuming she’d join up with one of the Horde remnants and immediately try to restart the war. But what if she’s biding her time instead, building her own army? She’s had success recruiting bandits in the Waste before, and with all of our troops busy elsewhere, she could build up her forces without us even noticing. She could even be behind DEMA’s problems, trying to sabotage our ability to fight Horde Prime.”

The Queen nodded thoughtfully before answering, “You may be correct, General. All right. The Princess Alliance will send the majority of its troops to bolster the Salinean Reclamation Fleet,” Her Majesty shot Mermista a look, and the water princess nodded, mollified, “While General Adora, Techmaster Bow, and Swift Wind the Horse go to the Crimson Waste with two goals. Your first mission will be to assist  _ Huntara _ ,” and here the Queen shot Shadow Weaver another glare, “in pacifying the Waste and ensuring  _ all _ Alliance citizens, DEMA included, can go about their business unhindered. Your second mission will be to keep an eye out for former Force Captain Catra in order to capture her and bring her back to Bright Moon to face justice. Is this mission accepted, General?”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” Adora saluted, practically vibrating with a mixture of dread and excitement as she turned to leave the council room, Bow and Swift Wind following her. She was going to find Catra. Unless Adora was wrong and she wasn’t in the Waste. Or dead. And if she did find her she was going to haul her back to Bright Moon to rot in a cell. Because Catra had nearly destroyed Etheria. But still,  _ she was going to find Catra! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out writing dialogue is hard, especially when your trying to capture a lot of very distinct character voices at once. Please let me know if anyone sounded OoC, or if I forgot one of the Princesses. I do hope everyone enjoys this chapter, I know its a lot of set up and not much action, but I thought it was important to let you see some of the wider politics going on in Etheria right now. See ya'll next week!


End file.
